


I'm Not the Only One

by LunarAsylum



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Self-Harm, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Porn, Cheating Dean, Closeted Dean, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Sex, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Love Confessions, M/M, Secret Relationship, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2014-12-01
Packaged: 2018-02-27 19:11:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2703287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarAsylum/pseuds/LunarAsylum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel just found out that his boyfriend wasn't only his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Not the Only One

**Author's Note:**

> I've been super addicted to Sam Smith's "I'm Not the Only One" and it heavily inspired this story.
> 
> Enjoy~!

There was a buzzing on the table, and he was extremely tempted to ignore it again. He had meant to set it to silent, but he couldn't bring himself to press the volume button one more time. His hands had already been trembling enough as it was, but now they were shaking uncontrollably with the rage and sadness he felt.

 

He had been lied to and led on for months, close to a year now. He felt like a fool for not recognizing it earlier, but love made you blind to all your surroundings. Castiel could admit openly that he was in love with Dean Winchester, but apparently, his wife Lisa was also in love with him. It felt like he was being stabbed multiple times in the chest every time his phone buzzed violently against the table.

 

Each vibration built his rage up and towards the sky until he finally grabbed it and threw it at the wall. It clattered to the floor, clearly broken, but it meant nothing to him. He could always buy a new phone, but nothing could replace a broken heart. He cried out with his anguish, letting the walls and ceiling feel his pain as he fell back down onto his couch.

 

He sank his face into his hands, the wetness of his tears coating them and slipping through the crevices between his fingers. Sobs melted into his palms, swallowing them whole and keeping them secret from the rest of the world. The couch had become his new safe haven, sucking him up and protecting him from the violations of society.

 

His hands quivered as he took them away from his face, tears spilling freely still as his blurred vision caressed his environment. The silence struck him as odd until he remembered he had broken his phone. It was times like this that he was thankful for the lack of a home phone, or else Dean would be calling that as well.

 

His rage simmered back to the surface, and he didn't realize his fists were balled until he had hit the lamp beside him, breaking it and knocking it to the floor. A few slices from the glass had coaxed blood to the surface, and it was oddly beautiful to him. It reminded him of the life he still had, the fact that despite how broken it seemed, his heart was still beating, still giving him life.

 

He wished it'd stop.

 

Castiel was unsure of how long he'd been sitting on the couch, but he was knocked out of his stupor by a knock on the door, and he wasn't sure who it could be. Perhaps a neighbor, checking to see if the shattering glass was just an accident. He shoved his left hand into his pocket to hide the now clotted cuts as he zig-zagged to the door. He felt unsteady and intoxicated by his own emotions.

 

Swinging the door wide open, his frustration leaked in his words which were cut off once his eyes focused and labeled the figure in front of him.

 

“What the _fuck_ are you doing here?” he spit out, venom lapping at every syllable like a lover.

 

Brunette hair swayed in the breeze that only reached to the limits of his door. Green eyes poured sympathy like wasted water on his doorstep, and he was unwilling to accept any of it.

 

“You weren't answering your phone. I thought something had happened,” Dean said hurriedly, his tone dripping concern like slobber.

 

“Did you think that maybe, just _maybe_ , I didn't want to talk to you?” he ground out, the words grating his throat harshly. He could feel the muscles in his shoulder going taut, and his body instantly ached from the intensity of his anger.

 

“Cas, it's been hours,” Dean replied, his shoulder drooping as he took the innocent stance. It only fueled the furt that bubbled in his veins, enraging the muscles in his body. His fist was slammed into the door frame without a thought, startling the taller man.

 

“You know what, Dean? I don't care. I didn't answer your multiple calls for a reason. So I'd really like it if you'd leave,” Castiel responded, fury nipping at his words, forcing them to run from his lips.

 

The confusion that draped across the younger's face was almost attractive, but he had to remind himself that he was furious with him. Furious, and heartbroken, but he should've expected both.

 

“I don't understand.”

 

The words came long after Castiel had read them on his face, and he scoffed. It was more than obvious he didn't understand, but he was an oblivious son of a bitch most of the time. He, on the other hand, observed everything he could about the taller male, having learned his tells months before. He could read Dean Winchester like he was a kindergartner's book.

 

“Obviously. If you'd pay more attention to me, you'd understand, and maybe you'd do something about it, but well, I know differently, so it just doesn't matter,” he responded like a bitter ex-lover. The only problem with that was the fact that Dean seemed keen on retaining a relationship with him.

 

“Cas, what—“

 

“How long have you been in the closet? Months? Did you only realize it when you asked me for a good fuck? Or had you realized it long before that, and decided, 'maybe I should get myself off with some easy sleaze'?” he said, his words poisoning the air between him and the Winchester.

 

“I—What? How did you—?”

 

“What? Find out you're married? That you and your amazingly beautiful wife have been together for six years and four months, and she wants kids with you, but you've been reluctant due to your childhood? Dean, I'm not an idiot, and I would really like it if you'd leave before I beat the living shit out of your face, because it's the closest thing to my first,” Castiel said, his words melting from anger to pain in a matter of seconds.

 

His eyes had only closed for a moment to regain his composure, but it was enough to blind him from Dean's actions, which consisted of crossing the line of his doorway and pinning him against the door, lips claiming that which he didn't own. With all of his being, he wanted to shove Dean away, scream at him in hysterics to leave him alone, and employ every dramatic act he knew to hide his pain, but he couldn't.

 

Every fiber of his being ignored his brain, soaking in and entrapping the taller man against him. His arms encircled his waist, inviting him to go further as his fingers dug into the muscular flesh beneath his shirt. He felt his throat willingly provide a groan of satisfaction to provoke the other. It succeeded in its mission, causing Dean to lift him off the ground with a grunt.

 

He wrapped his legs around his waist as his arms were torn away and given new surfaces to take as his property. His arms were draped over the taller's shoulders, and he was roughly shoved back against the wall that had been behind his front door. He was vaguely aware of the lesser amount of sunlight now entering his apartment, as the rest of his mind was distracted by the kisses and nips placed along his jawline and neck.

 

Black haired was rustled and misplaced against the wall as his head connected with it, resting there with a satisfied breath. Thin lips placed flags of wet caresses along his collar bone, his shirt stretched and pulled taut by Dean's hand. Breathes traveled the air, telling the room of his pleasure as rough, calloused hands traced invisible patterns across his abdomen and hips.

 

“Dean,” he whispered, more to nothing than the person giving him immense amounts of doubts. He was greeted with a smiling kiss on his throat, the brunette taking a moment of pause to let Castiel down. His feet connected with the ground, but it felt like clouds as his arms floated into the air. A shirt was discarded moments after, the cool air of his apartment playing against his skin, but Dean's mouth sought to correct that immediately.

 

The Winchester had never been this intimate and loving before, but it was a beautiful and welcome change as long and flesh worshiped him. His heart was racing, but he felt calm and loved in that moment, forgetting all wrongs placed against him. Jeans fell loose against his hips, and gently slid down his thighs as Dean sank to his knees.

 

Hands made love to his lower body, making sure to appreciate every available inch of him there was. He didn't remember when his eyes had fallen shut, but they shot wide open when a hot wetness enveloped his dick.

 

“D-Dean—“ he started, but a squeeze against his thigh stopped him and caused him to look down. He had never been greeted with a greater sight than Dean Winchester on his knees, making love with his mouth. It was perversely picture perfect, and his memory made sure the image was saved.

 

“Fuck,” he breathed, as pleasure mounted within him. He and Dean had never been together like this. The other often had neglected his needs in order to make it quick. Castiel had forsaken himself in order to keep the Winchester happy, because that was what mattered most to him.

 

He had never been loved like this, in fact, this was his first blowjob ever. Dean had taken a lot of his firsts, and he couldn't remember if he regretted it. All he knew at that moment was the hot sauna his body felt encased by. Sweat beaded in every pore, pooling and dripping down the waves of his skin like a gentle lover. His hands grasped at the wall, his head in a love-hate relationship with it as he rocked into Dean's mouth.

 

The edges of him burned with desire when lips and tongue vanished from the pleasure, his cock throbbing and wanting for more. Jade eyes peered up at him from his hip, and he couldn't help but sink down to their level. Sky met the Earth as their eyes locked in unison with their lips. It should have been awkward, but all he could feel was arousal and desire, as his hands grasped at the nearest available parts of Dean.

 

“You're too clothed,” he slurred against puffy lips, intoxicated by the aroma of the other. It happened every time Castiel was around him, and he could only feel a little guilty about it. His own wants and needs outweighed the misery of others, and he was okay with that. Within moments, his finger tips connected with the flesh of Dean's chest, hungrily soaking in the anatomy of him.

 

It was easy to ignore the pain in his knees when his mouth was connected with something much sweeter and softer, tasting and stealing everything that Dean was. There was a small part of him wondering if they would have sex right there in front of his door, but most of him didn't care as long as it happened. He was drunk on the body of the brunette, and he wasn't sure he could pinpoint when his pants had come off, but he could give credit to him for doing it in their current position.

 

“I wanna fuck you,” Dean murmured against his ear, drowning him in greed as he stole him away. His body was pliant against the younger's, and somehow, they fell into the safety of his couch. Everything was intimate as skin connected against skin, and his azure eyes carefully observed saliva coating the fingers of the Winchester's right hand.

 

A moan involuntarily escaped his throat, slithering through his lips, soaking them in lust. Just the feeling and knowledge of what was to come as fingers slid into him, stretching his muscles in preparation for the future, was enough to drive him mad, but he remained sane for the sake of Dean. At this moment, he lived and thrived for him, his body lithe and sinking into the couch.

 

He could feel the brunette's hand paying careful attention to the rest of him, gliding over every bump and curve of him, burning him with the mockery of love. The heat engulfed him, sending his body into overdrive as he whimpered and pleaded wordlessly for Dean to fuck him. His demands were met after moments of negligence, and suddenly he felt full and needed.

 

His voice cried out in a way he never knew it could, one hand gripping the cushion of his couch, the other squeezing Dean's fingers mercilessly. A groan from the other was enough for him to know that he was not the only one who needed this. They remained still needlessly, just relishing in the feeling of the other. Their chests rubbed together as the brunette began to move, adding to the friction.

 

Heat surged and boiled over between them, and he could've sworn that he'd explode. The way Dean's hips pressed into his drove him insane, forcing him to move and gyrate against the other, begging and screaming for more in silence. He ached for more, his free hand clawing at the other's shoulder, digging in and cutting skin as he moaned relentlessly.

 

Castiel wanted the world to know that Dean was the only one to ever make him feel this way. His skin was on fire, bubbling with an intensity nothing else could bring him. Hairs stood on end where hot, sweaty breath massaged his clavicle, only adding to the fervor of their sex.

 

“Fuck me!” he cried out, his body not receiving what it wept for. Movement increased, and became impatient as Dean thrust in and out of him, touching every part that mattered. Wanton moans and whimpers escaped his mouth, released freely for the brunette to keep. Everything that he was and would be was his to keep, and he didn't care if he hated himself for it.

 

The echoes of skin against skin touched and retracted from the walls, consuming all that they were in that moment. Moan after moan, Castiel asked for more and more until Dean reached all that he could, shuddering and groaning into his neck. Body against body, he felt pinned and needy as Dean came, releasing himself from desire.

 

Air came between them as the younger man pushed himself off top of him, and Castiel felt empty. Hands eagerly fixed that feeling as one closed around his cock, stroking him languidly as a mouth adored his hips and stomach. His eyelids fluttered shut in a moment of love as lust overtook him, propelling him into the abyss of nothingness.

 

A low, keening moan escaped him as a mouth suddenly engulfed his dick, ending where they began. The exhilaration of release flooded him, his body taut with an orgasm as lips caressed him over the edge. Fingers dug into the nearest surface, clenching with all his might to keep him grounded, but failing.

 

He prayed to a deity he didn't believe in as he shuddered into the cavern of Dean's mouth, his body wracked with physical and emotional intensity. It took several minutes for both of them to drop from their highs, lips connected as they dropped back to Earth.

 

“I love you,” Castiel said before he could stop himself, taking both of them by surprise. Green eyes escaped his gaze as Dean sat up, elbows resting on his knees. One leg was draped over Dean's bare lap, the other behind him as Castiel took the same position as his companion.

 

“You don't love me,” he said after several uncomfortable minutes of silence. It was no shock to him, but that didn't lessen the pain that overtook him. “Because you have a wife.”

 

“Cas, I don't understand.”

 

“What is there to understand, Dean? That you're cheating on your wife with another man? Is it really that hard?” Castiel asked, hurt and anger overtaking his words. “Are you gay?”

 

“What?” Dean asked indignantly, looking affronted when he turned to Castiel.

 

“Are you gay? It's a simple question.”

 

“No.”

 

“So you're bisexual,” he said matter-of-factly.

 

“I don't know what I am,” Dean spat, rage dripping from his words, burning his flesh.

 

“I think it's pretty obvious. You're just in denial,” Castiel said, rolling his eyes as he disentangled himself from his lover.

 

“I am _not_ in denial,” the Winchester hissed, his face curling with insult.

 

“Right, because your wife knows you like to fuck men, too.”

 

“Don't you _dare_ bring Lisa into this!”

 

“What exactly is _this_ , Dean? A good time? A fling? More than that, because I'd really like to fucking know. I don't just fuck a guy for 11 months and expect nothing from it, so maybe you should make up your mind!” Castiel shouted at him, unable to control his vocal chords.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Dean asked, his words soft, but biting. He looked like a wounded puppy, which almost persuaded Castiel to keep his mouth shut.

 

“It means, Dean, that if you go back to your wife tonight, we're done,” he said, a finality to his words that both of them knew were real. It caused his chest to ache with anxiety and fear, because already knew the answer, but hope kept him propelling through the murky waters of their relationship.

 

“You don't mean that,” the brunette said, hurt sinking into every available surface, including Castiel's heart. Every muscle in his face ached from frowning as he stared at his bare feet against the carpet.

 

“I do, Dean. I can't do this. I can't keep being your go-to, when you're feeling a little gay. I love you, Dean Winchester, and it kills me to know that at the end of the day, you're not sleeping in the same bed as me,” he whispered, but the words fell like an avalanche on the both of them.

 

Castiel had never even admitted it to himself before today, because he had doubted that Dean needed him. Even now, the doubt was there, but it wasn't strong enough to deter him from speaking his mind. The coffee table bled into the carpet as he waited for a response, his vision becoming abstract art.

 

“I can't.”

 

Heartbreak.

 

It sounded like glass falling in slow motion, the shatter deep and prolonged, but sharp and painful nonetheless. His eyes fell closed, everything blacked out, yet the vision of Dean was imprinted on the insides of his eyelids. It forced tears out, the liquid tracing the gentle curves of his face.

 

“Get out.”

 

“Cas, I—“

 

“Get. Out. Now,” he said, each word accented with calm rage. His body shook with emotion, muscles shivering beneath his skin as he did everything in his willpower to keep quiet.

 

There was the rustling of clothing in what he hoped was Dean getting dressed. It ended abruptly, and after a few extended seconds of silence, lips were against his cheek, causing him unnecessary pain.

 

“I love you, too,” he heard, just before he screamed threats and promises until Dean was dressed and out of the door. A soft click brought him down, collapsing against the couch as he sobbed and disappeared into the fabric. Tears soaked through the sweat and fibers, staining his soul as his faced remained buried, his anguish wailing through his home.

 

Hysterical gasps of air eventually dissipated into nothingness as he curled up, naked and fragile, letting every ounce of misery and insecurity bleed into the sanctuary of his couch. It was during this point in his life that he learned to trust no one. He was alone, and he always had to lookout for himself. It was always too good to be true if there was no pain.

 

That was the valuable lesson that Dean Winchester had taught him.

 


End file.
